


you can try to forget me (but i won't let you easily)

by Solanaceae



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, the title is basically as long as the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 18:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solanaceae/pseuds/Solanaceae
Summary: Luthien recieves a visitor in the middle of the night.





	you can try to forget me (but i won't let you easily)

**Author's Note:**

> For wlwtolkienweek, prompt luthien/thuringwethil: how does it feel with my teeth in your heart

“Why did you come back?” Lúthien stood in the knee-high grass, the hem of her dress dampening with the night’s dew. The moon was just barely risen over the treetops. Behind her, the house she and Beren shared was dark with sleep, but something had shifted in the shadows, waking her, calling her outside. And now, the shadows pressed close around, darkness given form - coming close, but never quite touching.

“You took something from me,” whispered a voice from the darkness under the trees, half hiss and half growl, entirely something from the untamed wilderness. “I want it _back_.”

Lúthien’s brow creased. “Your wings? Those are long gone--”

“ _No,_ ” the voice snarled. “I speak not of those.”

“Then what?”

The shadows curled together, then coalesced into the form of a woman, strikingly tall, with night-dark eyes. Lúthien watched as Thuringwethil drew closer and closer, face level with Lúthien’s, until they were mere inches apart. Lúthien could feel the cold gust of the other’s breath across her face.

“You know what.”

“I’m afraid I truly do not.”

Thuringwethil hissed, baring her teeth. They glinted sword-sharp in the moonlight. “Since you came to me, I have not been able to rest without seeing your face. You have taken my _peace_ from me, you elven witch, and I want it _back_.”

“You think I have cast some spell on you? I have done no such thing.”

“Lies.”

Lúthien drew herself up. “I do not lie, even to Melkor’s slaves.”

“I am - I serve them no longer. I have renounced those ties.” Thuringwethil must have seen something in Lúthien’s eyes, because she hastily tacked on, “Through no love of your kind. I simply felt it was time to become a free agent.”

Lúthien made a noncommittal noise. “And now you are here.”

“To make demands, not to make peace.”

“I have told you, I do not have what you seek.”

Thuringwethil’s shoulders slumped. “But you _must_ ,” she said, voice nearly plaintive. “Else where shall I go to find rest?”

“You say you cannot rest,” Lúthien said. “Why?”

“I close my eyes and see - light.” Thuringwethil tensed as though the memory was enough to set her on edge. “See you. Your sorcery has set teeth in my heart and I cannot escape them.”

“I do not know what I can do to help you.”

Thuringwethil’s eyes flashed. “You think me weak.”

“No.” Lúthien reached out, brushed Thuringwethil’s arm with her fingers. Thuringwethil flinched at the touch, but did not pull away. “No one who comes to a former enemy thus is weak. Merely wise. I would help you if I could.”

There was a strange look on Thuringwethi’s face now. “You would offer help to a creature such as me, one who was your foe until now?”

Lúthien nodded. “I would offer help to any who asked it, save perhaps Melkor himself.”

“Foolish.”

“Perhaps.” Lúthien shrugged. “Regardless, there is naught I can do for you at this time besides offer you a place to sleep for the night.”

“And risk me slitting your throat in your sleep?”

“I may be hospitable, but I am not without defenses,” Lúthien warned. “Besides, I do not think you would.”

Thuringwethil looked as though she wanted to reflexively  deny that, but she nodded. “I will not darken your home with my presence.”

“Very well.” Lúthien stepped back. Thuringwethil made an abortive gesture, as though she wanted to reach out and draw the other closer. Instead, she folded into herself, shadows gathering about her as though an echo of the wings she had lost.

“Farewell,” she said. Lúthien inclined her head.

“May you find the peace you seek.”

Thuringwethil’s gaze darkened. “Not likely.” With those words, she faded into the darkness, the shadows rippling like water as she passed through them. Within seconds, she was gone.

Lúthien stood in the grass for a few moments longer, watching. The night sounds of the forest were returning, sounds she had barely realized were missing until now. Thuringwethil was gone, and Lúthien would have thought she had dreamt it were it not for the tingle in her fingers where she had brushed cold, immortal skin.

She turned away.


End file.
